


The Bobble Head

by Quazie89



Category: Pendragon - D. J. MacHale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 17:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quazie89/pseuds/Quazie89
Summary: On his way to Bobby's 8th birthday, Press recalls how Bobby got his name.





	The Bobble Head

1

Early morning sunlight shown down upon the freshly mowed lawn of the homely abode known as 2 Linden Place.

It was a quiet morning. The neighborhood, which was called Stony Brook, was peacefully deserted as families slept in their homes. For hours no one stirred.

Then, inevitably, the door to 2 Linden Place swung open and Bobby Pendragon bounded out of the house, shouting joyously as his dog, Marley, bounced after him.

Today was Bobby's birthday. This wildly known fact was proven a certainty when Bobby, who was turning eight that day, boastfully proclaimed, "It's my birthday, Marley! It's my birthday and Uncle Press is coming!"

Marley barked in excitement. Bobby just knew that the Golden Retriever was thinking of that bag of meat Uncle Press had gotten him last year.

Smiling, Bobby flicked a lock of dark hair out of his face and beamed up at the sky. Today was going to be awesome.

2

The sun glared down on Press Tilton as he drove his motorcycle along the highway. It was too hot. He was seating like a horse.

Grunting, he blinked the sweat out of his eyes. This was too much. The only thing that was keeping him going was the thought of seeing Bobby's face lit up when he brought the kid that high-tech basketball field he had just bought recently. Man, that boy sure did love sports.

Smiling, Press shook his head. He was really proud of Bobby. The kid seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

Still, he was just a boy and Press wondered if he would be ready to save the world when it was his time to be the hero.

That was what had Press worried. He was getting old, after all, and forcing Bobby to take his place as a Traveler just made Press feel wretched.

Slowing the bike down a minute, Press recalled Bobby's first birthday in his mind and, with a smile, his face brightened.

3

Press watched from a distance as his sister held her baby boy in her arms. She was sitting at the table, bouncing the kid on her knees.

"Tell Uncle Press that he needs to come over here and talk to you," she cooed to the one year old. Press couldn't believe that she still hadn't found a name for him yet.

"I'll talk to him when he has a name," he grumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly. The boy's mother shook her head.

"Oh, no. You got to talk to him now. Right, kid?" she asked. The boy bobbed his head frantically. Press watched the boy's eccentric movements, amused.

"Sis, he sure is bobbing that head of his. Why don't you just call him Bobby?" he suggested. His sister glowed.

"Bobby, that's perfect for my little bobble head, Press. Just perfect," she whispered, planting a kiss on Bobby's shiny, bald head. Press bent down and shared a warm hug with his sister.

They were never that close again.

4

Press swallowed. He blinked back tears as he struggled to banish the hurtful memories away. He felt pathetically weak. What would Bobby think if he saw his uncle this way?

Wanting that question to remain unanswered, Press swore. Angry with himself, he speeded up the bike. He was going to make it to his nephew's party in one piece. He had to.

5

Mrs. Pendragon watched her son as he tussled with Marley in the front yard. She was fixing punch and cupcakes for everyone while her husband wrapped presents in the house.

Its about time he done something useful, she thought, dropping several blocks of ice into a plastic cup that was already filled to the brim with the punch. She was about to start on another cup when she unexpectedly heard the roar of a motorcycle's engine as it purred over the driveway.

"Press," she grumbled, crushing the ice she had been holding when she closed her fist.

Indeed, when she turned around, she caught sight of her brother sliding down from his bike. When he took off his helmet, she noticed with faint concern that he looked more tired than usual.

"Uncle Press!" Bobby cried, running at his uncle. With a low, rumbling laugh, Press hauled the boy into his arms and began to talk to him in a hushed tone. Knowing that her brother was up to no good, Mrs. Pendragon stalked toward him.

"Press! What sort of scheme are you cooking up with my son?" she interrogated the older man. He just smiled.

"Now, sis, you can't just go accusing a man, especially if he's your brother. Bobby, why don't you go play with your friends?" Press wondered, ruffling Bobby's hair.

"Sure! I think I'll do that! Mark just got here," he said, giving Press a quick, daring smirk before he ran off after Mark, who was currently being chased by a very playfully Marley.

"You've got some nerve coming back here! What did you get him this time? A robot that's smarter than me or a monkey that talks?" Mrs. Pendragon demanded, planting her fists on her hips.

Press, smiling wearily, shook his head. "No, sis, it was nothing like that. I actually got him a high-tech basketball court that allows him to play with his friends or against a highly intelligent computer," he revealed. Mrs. Pendragon sighed.

"I hate it when you do this! I hate it when you by him all of this pricy, rare junk! It's going to ruin my boy!" she snapped, her voice getting higher and higher. Press hung his head. In a low voice he murmured, "No it won't. It's going to prepare him one day. You wait and see. All of this stuff you're talking about, it's going to toughen him up. You just wait."

Mrs. Pendragon raised her hands in frustration. "You sound like a broken record! Every year you tell me the same thing, Press! You're hiding something! You're lying to me!" she accused, pointing a stern finger at Press' chest.

Press was about to make a reply when, suddenly, the roaring buzz of a helicopter's blades reached their ears. Press scanned his eyes upward.

"They're it is! It's so big that they had to store it into pieces before they put it on the chopper," he informed his sister as she boiled and seethed. This was going to be an interesting day, Press knew.

6

Bobby had been excited when he saw the helicopter. He became jubilant when Press said he could step inside it.

"Wow, really, Uncle Press?! That's so cool!" he exclaimed after the chopper had touched down. The pilot, who seemed to be an old friend of Press', had gone off to the bathroom.

"Go on. Have some fun," Press encouraged, motioning for Bobby to climb up into the chopper. Before ascending into the helicopter, however, Bobby gave Press a questioning look.

"Can Mark come?" he asked. Press nodded.

"Bobby, you know the answer to that one. Mark, Bobby wants to show you something!" he called out to Bobby's friend. Within seconds Mark rushed up to them, gasping for breath.

"Wow, cool chopper," he wheezed, bending over. Bobby placed a hand over his friend's shoulder.

"Let's go! This is going to be a blast!" he promised, and dragged his friend up toward the helicopter's cockpit. Press sighed, wishing he was young again.

7

Later that evening, Bobby ate his cake with his family and friends before he opened his presents, which were of great variety. Press was pleased to see that he had received gifts from both sides of the family.

"Wow, thanks everybody! The gifts were awesome!" Bobby said, sounding nowhere near as happy as he had been when he first saw Press' basketball field in the helicopter. Seeing that Bobby had opened all of his presents, the adults nodded and commented on how well-behaved he was before departing. As the last guests started to leave, Press privately spoke with Bobby and his parents.

"I guess this is so long, for now. I won't be back for another year or so," he told them, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

Mrs. Pendragon, looking put off by Press' upcoming absence, said, "Why, Press, what's going on, if you don't mind me asking?"

Trying not to look guilty, Press replied, "Oh, it's nothing much, really, just a few business trips is all." Mrs. Pendragon was furious.

"They must be pretty long business trips," she grumbled. Bobby looked up at his mother. "What's wrong, mom?" he asked quietly. Press hushed the boy and embraced him in a tight hug.

"Don't worry about me, Bobby, or your mom, either. We'll be fine. Just look out for us, okay?" he whispered. Bobby nodded.

"Sure thing, Uncle Press," he agreed. Press turned to the boy's parents.

"Take care of Bobby. I'll be back when I can," he told them, and walked away. Mrs. Pendragon glared at her brother until he was long gone.

"Who's ready for bed?" she asked. Bobby knew then that the evening was over.

8

When it got dark, Mark's mom came to take him home.

"Well, I guess its time to go. Thanks for the cool party, Bobby" Mark was saying as they stood outside. Bobby grinned.

"Hey, it was no problem. You can up anytime," he said. smiled uncertainly.

"We'll see you some other time, then," she said, pulling Bobby hastily toward the house. Mark waved at his friend before getting into his parent's car, which was going down the road seconds later.

"Mom, why did you do that –" Bobby started to ask his mother but she interrupted him.

"Never mind, Bobby. It's getting cold and late and you have school tomorrow. Its time for bed," she muttered. Bobby's father remained silent.

Bobby knew right then and there that something was wrong between his parents and Uncle Press. Still, he kept quiet as he trudged off to bed.

He was in for a sleepless night as soon as his head hit the pillow.

THE END


End file.
